


Cross My Heart

by Madzie



Category: Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Established Relationship, Fluff, Hand Jobs, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-11
Updated: 2018-03-11
Packaged: 2019-03-29 23:00:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,245
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13937262
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Madzie/pseuds/Madzie
Summary: “Oh?” Magnus perks, playful edge to his words as he levels Alec with a mock serious expression. “You have a boyfriend?”“Fiancé actually, made it official last week after my sister got promoted and insisted we all have a huge celebration for her knew title as the youngest Inquisitor in Nephilim history.”“Sounds like quite an event.”“it was. You should’ve been there, my fiancé, he was definitely a sight to be seen—even had on this live snake to accentuate his outfit. I think he got it from some Mundy pop-star. Rihanna whoever, or Kitty Perry I think?”Magnus’s face goes very, very flat.





	Cross My Heart

Magnus tips his head back, eyes shut and the subtle buzz of his first shot of the night spreading through his veins. He loves this kind of atmosphere—loves the thrum of music pounding in the open air of Pandemonium, the mass of writhing bodies grinding against each other. There’s no limits, no judgments. Just a wide expanse of faceless strangers whooping, and jeering, and getting frisky with one another. Nothing as inconsequential as sexualities, or shadow lineage have any sort of place here.

It’s just a space to be authentic and free.

“Don’t you look pretty,” Dot—all cheshire cat smiles, and wickedly sexy leather—plops down on the stool besides him, barely even needing to flutter her lashes before three different people are scrambling to buy her a drink. If he’s being honest, Magnus feels kind of sorry for the dazed looking Seelie who actually got to put the Long Island in Dot,’s hand, considering how in turn, she just gives him a passive upturn of the lips, and terse flipping of the hair in dismissal.

“So what are you doing by the bar, huh? I’ve never known you to pass on a good jig.”

Magnus wrinkles his nose at her. “Did you just say Jig?”

“Yeeees? Have a problem with my vocabulary Bane?”

“Oh no, not a one. “s just, you don’t need to talk like some bizarre victorian maiden, just cause you were born in that era.”

He snorts, and she cuffs him on the back of the head.

“I’ll have you know asshole, my partners happen to think my quirks are quite cute.”

“Oh no doubt about it! You my dear Dorothea, are quite frankly a heart breaker.”

“Do I hear a sardonic undertone Bane?”

“Who? Me! Sardonic?” Magnus feigns hurt—which basically means grappling his chest and craning his brows. “How dare you! Speaking such venom like that! I demand a written apology on my desk by noon tomorrow! Less we must duel at dusk.”

“Ass face,” Dot crows, and snatches the lemon from his shot glass, sucking on it in a way that makes Magnus role his eyes, but invites a new round of suitors chasing to get her attention.

“Oh please, don’t look at me with those hypocritical brows just cause you’re practically married and shit. When was the last time you ever paid for a drink in this century?”

“Never, it does actually pay to be the boss of this joint, ya know?”

“Partial share holder,” Dot needles just to get a rise out of him.

“Still successful than you and all your failed business endeavors my dear.”

“Rude, and a blatant slander of my character.”

“Oh yeah? So how’s that gelato joint you opened back in oh six?”

“Hey! You swore you’d never speak of that which shall not be named Mag!”

“It was in the middle of Juneau— two blocks down from a barely hanging on Baskin-Robbins!”

“Fine,” Dot seethes. “I was misguided in that pursuit.”

“I mean me and Cat warning against it is one thing, but even Ragnor—“

Evidently done with their conversation, Dot cuffs him on the back of the head, and floats off in a cloud of jasmine scented perfume, whisking off to some poor, unassuming schlep and making them dance with her. Though not with one final, “Keep you and your weirdo boyfriend’s creepy foreplay in the bedroom loser! His mooning is scaring the patrons!” tossed Magnus’s way.

He shakes his head at her ribbing, and screams back an “Love you too.”

Magnus is seriously starting to feel the weightless effects of the alcohol in his hands, mixed together with the pure act of just having fun for one of the first times in ears. There’s no Shadow World politics plaguing his thoughts, or vindictive maniacs after him. The precarious balance of the world as they know it doesn’t even sit partially on his shoulders anymore—Magnus feels equal parts elated and free. The handful of people he loves most in this world are all alive and vibrant and everything is okay—everyone is safe.

Magnus’s gaze shifts across the expanse before him—He can see how Clary and Izzy have a spotlight focus on their love induced scramble of limbs, and kisses, and chortles. Knows that Sheldon and blondie are off getting handsy in some darkened corner, and that Maia is off working an extra shift at Hunter’s Moon to pay off the last of her Colombia tuition in the fall, most probably relaying to Luke just how infuriatingly unobtainable she finds Dot, (totally ignorant to how Dot looks at Maia as if she had singlehandedly placed all the stars in the sky, and hung the moon while she was at it.) They’re all so messy and ridiculous, but Magnus still loves them all more than he knows what to do with. They’re his family—a unit of mismatched individuals who are bonded to each other with a connection thicker than even blood.

The laugh that pours out of Magnus’s lips right then is something frothy and effortless—his shoulders clench together, and his face feels like it might split in half. Magnus doesn’t ever remember laughing like that, in a way that’s almost painful in how amazing it feels. So he just laughs, and laughs, and laughs until his insides can’t take it anymore. everything feels like it’s floating, like it’s been tinted in starlight and lavender. Like he was one of the leads from Moulin Rouge, or some shit. Like his life will actually turn out being some sort of modern era fairytale, over a fucked up Shakespearian tragedy.

For the first time in centuries, Magnus feels as if he’s living in a world of possibilities, rather than one constructed to limit his freedoms.

“You’re eyeshadow is immaculate,” an unfamiliar voice purrs from above him—startling Magnus out of his dopey daydreams.

The boy looking down at him is painfully mundane. He’s all tediously quaffed hair, and has an air about him that screams privilege. In fact, from how he’s dimpling down at the warlock, Magnus bets that this kid has no actual idea of how actual strife looks like. A pretty boy born with a silver spoon in his mouth, and doted on as if he’s God’s gift to mankind. The sort of mundane who’s always been enthralled by Magnus, and all the sparks of power he radiates. The type that find themselves Besotted by both Magnus’s beauty, and his unobtainability, by no more than one glance.

Magnus remembers how not so long ago, he would’ve given pretty boy’s sort his time for a night, or two. He’d let them wax lyrical of all the twinkling opportunities that they could take hold of. He’d let them paint a misguided folly—a rose tinted outlook—of what they could become. Let’s the boys and girls he takes to bed indulge themselves in thinking that they could’ve ever held his attention for long enough for it to count.

Magnus feels a tad bit guilty for just how blasé he acted when he would crush those prospects of something more, with nothing more than merely giving them a noncommittal shrug, and passive “It was fun for as long as it lasted. Let’s keep it at that.”

Magnus is almost positive that Pretty boy would’ve totally been added to that string of ill-fated lovers—would’ve if it were not for the lithe body stocking towards them right at this very moment. A beauty composed of ever shifting hazel eyes, and 180 pounds of delicious muscle. A shadowhunter that quite literally snatched the breath from Magnus’s lungs, and coaxed his heart right from his chest with nothing more than Alec’s disarmingly beautiful grin, and the way his eyes shone with a candor Magnus has rarely seen lit in any soul. The way he had just cut through all the glamour and unnecessary artifice to fulfill his prosaic duty to protect the innocent from the demonic—a protection he had always extended to even the Downworlders he was trained to despise.

Magnus’s eyes go hooded the closer Alec comes, and he tries to parse out why it feels like he’s falling in love with him all over again every time they’re reunited—no matter how brief the absence.

“Hi,” The grin Magnus is shooting up at the ebony haired adonis is most probably blinding—but he can’t help it. He’s kind of nuts for the guy. (And besides, Alec’s totally looking at Magnus all dazed and smitten too. And his enraptured face is totally more embarrassing. His impossibly sculpted cheekbones get all flushed, and his smile melts into something so completely beguiled. And it’s all just a lot. If Magnus is being totally honest, he never thought that he would ever experience someone looking at him with such unadulterated adoration, while he was looking back at them, and mirroring that exact sentiment.)

“Hello there, I’m Mr. Lightwood,” he sticks out his hand, and fuck, Magnus’s blood is already starting to spike with thrill. (Dot can so totally suck it, they’re foreplay is definitely not weird. It’s hot as all get out if Magnus has anything to say about it.) “And you?”

“Mr. Bane,” He clasps their hands together to shake, and subconsciously notes that the Mundy is storming off in a huff of muttered curses and petty insults thrown both their way. (Good riddance, he must’ve realized he had no chance.)

“So Mr. Lightwood, what’s your poison? What’ve you been drinking tonight?”

“Mostly just you, from across the room.”

Magnus starts, surprised laughter punching out of him. “Well done. Very smooth if I do say so myself.”

“I try,” the corners of Alec’s mouth quirk up into a shit eating leer, and he assumes the seat besides him. Magnus cradles his chin on his palm, so gone on this idiot that it’s not even funny.

“I’m sure you never have to try very hard Mr. Lightwood,” he simpers, with a squeezing to Alec’s thigh, punctuating his point.

“Well, you’ve evidently never met my boyfriend? Now let me tell you, that man is so far out of my league, it’s not even funny. I’m lucky that he’s even still with me.”

“Oh?” Magnus perks, playful edge to his words as he levels Alec with a mock serious expression. “You have a boyfriend?”

“Fiancé actually, made it official last week after my sister got promoted and insisted we all have a huge celebration for her knew title as the youngest Inquisitor in Nephilim history.”

“Sounds like quite an event.”

“it was. You should’ve been there, my fiancé, he was definitely a sight to be seen—even had on this live snake to accentuate his outfit. I think he got it from some Mundy pop-star. Rihanna whoever, or Kitty Perry I think?”

Magnus’s face goes very, very flat.

“I think you mean Britney Spears. And I’m sure you’re boyfriend would be remiss if he did not point out that it was in fact she who got the idea from him, rather than the other way around.”

Alec gives him a one eyed squint, and presses his lips together. Totally being obtuse just for the hell of it, the jackass.

“Naw, no I don’t think so. I’m pretty sure that I’d know what my fiancé meant over some random guy I met at the bar he partially owns.”

“Mr. Lightwood,” Magnus ensures his tone is withering. “I’m seriously starting to regret ever having this conversation.”

Alec breaks into peals of wonderfully golden laughter. A dulcet sound that makes something warm and content coil deep in Magnus’s stomach before he reluctantly inclines his head forward and captures Alec’s lips into a kiss that tastes like vodka, and butterscotch, and something close to sunlight.

Alec responds with vigor, clasping his hands onto Magnus’s broad shoulders almost desperately.

“We should take this somewhere else,” Magnus suggests in a whisper, nipping at his boyfriend’s lips. He practically melts when he hears the corresponding whimper that slips out of Alec’s mouth.

 

~*~

 

Alec’s body is a line of hot, defined muscle pressed up against Magnus when he slams the shadowhunter against the wall of their loft. Their lips latching, and unlatching in quick, heated increments—like they can’t get enough of each other—like nothing will ever be enough for them to get their fill.

“I…love…you…so…much” Alec gasps between kisses, trying, and quite painfully failing at uncynching Magnus’s belt.

“Hey, careful Alexander. That’s Gucci you’re so intactfully handling.”

Alec just roles his eyes, and flaps his hands in a universal, fine, you do it then Einstein gesture. Magnus can’t help the little chuckle that bubbles out at Alec’s impatience.

“Don’t tease,” Alec moans from where he’s begun mouthing at Magnus’s collar bone, fondling his ass appreciatively. (And yeah, boo-ya. Magnus totally knew that his booty looked mighty fine in these leather pants.)

“Not teasing Alexander, just fondly poking fun.”

“Well at this rate, neither of us will be having any actual fun all night.”

Magnus squawks with amusement, leading the pair of them to collapse into their California King in the next room over.

“When I saw that Mundy flirting with you,” Alec almost seethe, slinking off the obscenely tight shirt Magnus had slipped on for their night out, and running his hands reverently up and down Magnus’s chest and torso. An uncomfortable amount of aw in his gaze.

“Come now Alexander,” Magnus goads, thankful to Alec’s briefs finally being shed off and disregarded somewhere in the tornado they left behind. “Don’t tell me you were jealous of twiddle dumb?”

“Of course not,” Alec scoffs, leaning down to kiss him long and filthy. “I just hate that he ever thought he had a snowball’s chance in hell with you.”

Magnus just shakes his head at him, exasperated but also flattered—which is strange in it’s own right. He’s Magnus fucking bane—the High Warlock of Brooklyn for hell’s sake! And he’s blushing like a fucking school boy because the love of his life is complimenting him in the most nonchalant way possible.

It’s totally ridiculous.

“You’re totally ridiculous.”

Alec nuzzles his nose into the juncture of Magnus’s neck and shoulder—where he could feel Alec’s abashed smile curving against his skin. “Yeah, but you love it.”

The worst part? He’s totally not wrong, and Magnus tells him as much.

What a pair of love sick fools, the two of them.

Magnus pulls Alec back so they’re face to face again, and kisses him thoroughly breathless. It’s one of those kisses that he can feel tingling down to his toes and making something splendid bloom in his chest. One of those kisses that makes everything feel etherial and buoyant and lovely.

They lye there, kissing for what feels like hours. It’s slow and sensual, and doesn’t feel like it has to lead to something else, an act that’s more grounding than anything. Reminding them that the other is still there. That they’re both still alive and whole and well.

When they do finally break apart, Magnus’s lips feel numb, and he can feel Alec’s erection practically piercing into his thigh.

“Want a hand?” Magnus sneers, carding a ginger hand through Alec’s disheveled, sweaty locks.

“Not if you don’t stop those awful puns, I don’t.” Alec huffs, with no real bite. “We’ve discussed this.”

Magnus just rolls his eyes heavenwards, opting to enjoy the sounds of the little, unbridled gasps of pleasure that spills out of Alec, when Magnus takes one of his lubed up hands and slides it up and down Alec’s shaft.

“Ooo, ah—yeah.” Magnus twists his grasp, and Alec groans, eyes clenched in anticipation.

“You like that huh?”

“Ye-yeah,” Alec manages out through labored breaths. “Very much.”

Magnus kind of basks in the beauty of Alec lying they’re, so willing and pliant beneath him. With one final tug, Magnus rinses the orgasm out of him, kissing Alec’s cheek before the Shadowhunter collapses in a heap besides him, smiling and sated.

They lye their, in the comforting silence that blankets over their home. Tentatively, Magnus takes his fingertips, and begins to move a steady hand down from Alec’s warm smile to his chest and abs— tracing down the constellation of scars and runes that pillage his alabaster skin, paving memories of bloodshed and depravity.

Sometimes Magnus feels like despite Alec being some sort of transcended warrior, manufactured by the heavens, —cut from honor and steal—that Alexander is the most delicate part of Magnus’s life. The most precious being that has ever touched his heart. The one person that he loves more than he had ever fathomed being able to love.

“I love you,” Magnus repeats, rote. Squeezing their interlaced hands with all he has, like it’s all he has to give Alec somedays, like those especially bad ones when painful memories of his childhood trudge to the surface, and Alec just holds Magnus in his arms, no questions asked, for as long as it takes him to regain composure. And On those days when Magnus doesn’t have a clue how to make Alec understand that he’s never been inferior, that he’s always been the brightest nova to have ever graced this God forsaken dimension, and sometimes that scares Magnus shitless because he knows that the brightest stars are always the ones that collapse into themselves first. Leaving behind a void of nothingness and hurt, and Magnus seriously doubts that he could ever survive that future. That nothingness—that ruin— where Alexander wasn’t there, looking at Magnus all flustered and adoring.

Sometimes Magnus’s chest aches because he just loves this brilliant and beautiful and courageous Nephilim so fucking much and he sometimes kind of hates himself because Magnus can never weave his emotions into proper words for Alec to understand that.

So he just keeps on repeating it, because maybe one day Alexander will finally begin to get a clue to how deeply this runs for Magnus too—that they’ve always been on the same wavelength for that at the very least, even if Magnus has never been one for grand gestures like Alec, or even well practiced in those soft, all encompassing words that compose the poems Simon writes to sing to Jace.

Magnus has neither of those things to offer, but he loves Alec more than he thinks anyone has ever loved anyone. So he can give him that at the very least.

I will always and forever be in love with you Alexander.”

Alec’s jaw goes slack, his pupils blown. He always looks like that, like he’s so taken aback by the simple truth that Magnus loves him. Like no matter how much he loves Magnus, he would never deserve those feelings returned onto him. As if he’s not worthy somehow. And Magnus hates that, hates it to his very core. SO he cups his hand onto Alec’s sharp jawline, and forces their gazes to bore into each other.

“Through time and space, and in every galaxy—Alexander, I will always love you,” Magnus speaks those words with complete and utter sincerity, and never strays his gaze away from Alec’s , ensuring that he understands, needing him to understand.

Not a breaths moment passes before Alec swoops forwards, kissing him within an edge of his life, and it finally starts to feel like something’s starting to mend deep in Magnus’s heart, like they’ve come to some sort of harmonious understanding—

Something their own.

**Author's Note:**

> Seriously if you leave a comment I will make you a 3 cheese omelet and bring it to you in bed <3<3 XD


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